


Euphemism

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [200]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, and actual eyerolling, awkward discussion, implied eyerolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>euphemism: noun: yo͞ofəˌmizəm: a mild or indirect word or expression substituted for one considered to be too harsh or blunt when referring to something unpleasant or embarrassing.</p><p>late 16th century: from Greek euphēmismos, from euphēmizein ‘use auspicious words,’ from eu ‘well’ + phēmē ‘speaking.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Euphemism

John got up slowly and gave Sherlock a quick peck on the lips. "Be back in a mo, love." Lestrade shook his head as he watched the usually anti-social detective roll his eyes and take another sip of the lager that had been sitting in front of him, barely touched.

"Soo...what made you come out tonight?" Lestrade finished his pint and signaled for another one. "Never bothered before."

"As I recall, no one ever asked me before I met John." Sherlock answered, not bitter in the least, just stating a point of fact.

"Ah, yes, hmm. I guess it just never occurred to me that you'd want to..." He nodded his thanks as his pint was delivered and took a sip.

"...and you'd have been correct in your assumption..." Sherlock grimaced as he picked up his pint, then put it down again.

"So?" Lestrade took another gulp and waited.

"Since we've been shagging..."

Lestrade nearly spit his mouthful in Sherlock's face. "Shagging?"

"You know...having-"

"Whoa, yeah...I've heard the euphemism before, just never thought I'd hear it from, uhm, you."

"I figured since you and John are pub mates, I should try to socialize with him, now that we are...mmm..."

"Boyfriends...bedmates...partners...?"

"Actually...I'm going to ask him later tonight if he will marry me, that was part of the reason for coming along; I don't want him to be too sloshed, plastered or otherwise impaired."

"Understood, mate."

Sherlock started and narrowed his eyes at Lestrade. "Are we mates, Geoff?"

Lestrade looked at him and put his glass down. "How long have we known each other, Sherlock?"

"How long?"

"Yeah, how long?"

"I'd say approximately 20 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, 2 days and..."

"You remember the exact day and time when we met?" 

"It's a bit hard to forget, since you are the reason I'm still here." Sherlock mumbled into his pint glass, but Lestrade heard him.

"Hmmm?"

"You single-handedly prevented me from meeting my maker, shuffling off this mortal coil, buying the farm-"

"Got it."

"So, you determine a relationship by how long you've known someone?" Sherlock asked, fingers pressed together, looking at Lestrade as if solving a complex puzzle.

"Partly...I also enjoy talking to you, we have things in common..." He took a long draught of his pint, trying to stall for time.

"Like..."

"Crime scenes?"

"...and...?"

"I...uhmm...have been known to play a mean violin..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sherlock looked up in surprise.

"I thought you knew..."

"Let me see your hands." Sherlock drank down half his pint to give him a bit of courage.

Lestrade placed his hands on the table, palms up, and wondered how John lived with the intense scrutiny every day. Sherlock picked up one hand, then the other and shook his head.

"Ahh - of course...there's always something...I took the callouses for shooting practice, and too much time on the computer, but there are deeper marks, you started early, 4, no...you were 3...you hated the practicing at first, you wanted to play football with your mates...eventually, you started to love it...but you got bullied about it. Shit, I'm sorr-" Sherlock glimpsed a bit of what his own childhood had been like in Lestrade's eyes for a moment, then it was gone.

"No...it's fine - " Lestrade looked at his hand that Sherlock held gently in his, and remembered a time when he was seen as different, as a freak. He drained the rest of his pint and tried to breathe normally. 

"No, Greg, I'm truly sorry...John always tells me..." 

"He tells you what?" Lestrade managed to recover a bit of his equilibrium.

"...that I'd keep friends longer if I kept the deducing to a minimum..."

John returned at that moment and slid in next to Lestrade, so he could better look at Sherlock. "Leave you two alone for three minutes and you're holding hands..."

"Did you know Greg plays?"

"Plays what?"

"The violin, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes and finished his pint, wondering how it happened.

"Really? You have something in common, then."

"And we have John in common," Sherlock thought aloud. "I mean, he tolerates both of us enough to spend an excess of time with us."

John laughed. "Yes, sometimes I wonder about my sanity. Another round?"

Lestrade caught Sherlock's eye and shook his head. "Early night for me, lads, you two have one on me, though, yeah?" He threw down his share and a bit more and slapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "Luck, mate."

Sherlock nodded and grinned slightly at him as he made his way to the door. Lestrade started walking homeward, but turned a bit in time to see Sherlock sliding a ring on John's finger through the window of the pub. The bartender brought over a couple of glasses of Champagne and the two of them toasted each other. Lestrade could hear the cheer of the pub crowd as they kissed.

 

"Hey, love, guess who just got engaged?"

"No, not me, unless you know something I don't."

"Your brother..."

"Yeah, just saw it with my own eyes..."

"To whom?"

"Oh, Myc - behave. Yes, he finally asked his 'goldfish.' Yes, yes, I know. I'll be home soon. Love you, too."


End file.
